Treated Like An Adult
by MaryCamille
Summary: Every time Jo Harvelle offers to help Dean and Sam Winchester on a hunt, she's turned down flat. Finally, she calls Dean out on it, demanding to be treated like an adult, with unexpected results.


The Roadhouse was quiet after Sam and Ellen had left. The only two people in the building were Dean and Jo, and the only sound was the juke box. The silence between the two of them wasn't exactly awkward, but Jo would rather be talking to him. She didn't get to see Dean much, so she took advantage of the time she was given.

He was sitting at the bar in a black t-shirt, and over that an open red button-up. His amulet hung from around his neck like it always did, and his old leather jacket sat on the barstool to his right. Dean's dark wash, scuffed up jeans fit him comfortably and flared wide enough at the bottom for his dark boots. He turned his hand slowly so that the Jack Daniel's in his glass swirled around the sides, his eyes fixated on it.

Jo had been cleaning tables when she realized she was staring and immediately went back to picking up cups left at empty tables from the bar flies that had cleared out. After another moment of silence, she cleared her throat.

"So, had any good hunts lately?" Jo asked casually as she made her way back around the bar.

Dean glanced up at her before taking another sip of his whiskey. "Not really. Just the usual stuff. Why you askin'?" His green eyes followed her as she went back for more glasses and bottles that had been left around the room.

Jo shrugged. "Curious."

It was silent again. Jo's attempt to start a conversation hadn't worked, and she pursed her lips as she looked back over at him quickly.

"I was probably s'posed to say somethin' that could make for conversation," Dean chuckled briefly as he turned on his seat to watch her. He rested his right elbow on the bar behind him, his glass still held casually in his hand.

Jo smirked and looked up at him as she tossed empty beer bottles into the trash can. "Well, yeah, that's what I was hopin' you'd do."

Dean nodded and slid his left hand into his front pocket. "Nothin' good, really. Hauntings and possessions. The usual," he continued, pretending that he hadn't missed a beat.

A small laugh escaped Jo's lips as she looked up at him. "Right. Because hauntings and possessions are normal things," she replied sarcastically.

There was a smirk on Dean's lips as he shrugged. Jo tried to ignore the wide frame of his shoulders and the way his lips seemed to pucker slightly, even though he wasn't trying to make them, but it was easier said than done. She felt her heart stutter in her chest and looked away quickly.

"'Course they are." Dean raised an eyebrow slightly as she looked away from him. He noticed that her cheeks had gone slightly pinker than usual and his chest moved with a silent chuckle as his smirk grew. He'd always been able to analyze women's body language; it was something he'd learned over the years. Jo was shy about her feelings, unlike a lot of women he attracted.

Jo cleared her throat again, awkwardly this time, and moved back over to the bar. She held an empty shot glass in her left hand. "So, any idea where y'all are heading' next?"

Dean turned so that he was facing her again and pursed his lips. "Michigan, I think. Somethin' weird goin' on up there. Sammy's still gotta do some research on it, but I'm pretty sure we got a solid case."

"I could help you out," Jo offered, looking up into his piercingly green eyes. She felt a flutter in her stomach, but this time she didn't look away.

Dean laughed again, almost condescendingly. "No thanks, Jo. I'm pretty sure we've got this one covered. Better leave it to the professionals." He looked down at his boots, a smug smile still on his lips.

The flutter in Jo's stomach disappeared instantly, and the look in her eyes turned to a glare. The shot glass she held hit the bar loudly as she slammed it down angrily.

Dean looked up at her through his eyelashes, an eyebrow raised curiously. He lifted his head again and examined her angry expression. "Somethin' wrong?"

She huffed out and looked away from him for a moment to gather her thoughts. When she looked back, she put her hands on her hips and cocked her hip slightly to the side. "Yeah, somethin's wrong," she snapped. "You are a cocky son of a bitch, you know that?"

"I've been told once or twice," he replied coolly with his eyes still on Jo.

"You think you're just so great. The best damn hunter the world's ever seen, huh? Like you don't need anybody's help. Every time I offer to help you out, you turn me down flat. And you know what else?" Jo's voice was growing louder with every word, and she was on the verge of yelling.

"Why don't you tell me what, Jo?" he suggested, lifting his glass to his lips again to take another sip.

Jo could feel something burning it the pit of her stomach. It wasn't hate, but she was sure it was damn close to it. Her lips were set in a tight line as she glared at him while the seconds ticked by.

"Not only do you turn me down every time I wanna help, but you do it in the most annoying way I've ever seen. You're just so arrogant and full of yourself!" she yelled finally. "I'm twenty-two years old and the least you could do is treat me like the adult I am! I'm not a child, Dean Winchester!"

As Jo finished her rant, Dean polished off his whiskey and set the glass down gently. What infuriated her more than anything about the current situation was his absolute sense of cool. He didn't wince at the volume of her voice or twitch at the angry tone. None of the insulting words she threw at him seemed to have any affect. He was just as casual and collected as he'd been every time she'd seen him.

He wiped his thumb across his lips as he seemed to mull over her words. Finally, he looked up at her. "So, you want to be treated like an adult?" he asked as he stood. Jo had been about eye-level with him until now as he grew taller. She now had to look up at him to keep her glare connected with his eyes.

"Damn right I wanna be treated like an adult!" she shouted.

"Fine."

Dean's hands were rough against Jo's hips as he slammed her small waist into the bar behind her. The glasses on the bar rattled at the sudden force, making small clinking sounds as they bumped together. She would have hissed in pain as her back connected with the wood, but she was cut off by his demanding lips against hers.

She stood frozen for a moment as Dean's lips worked angrily against hers. It didn't take long, though, for her to respond. Jo grabbed fistfuls of the collar of his red shirt and pulled him closer, causing the sharp pain in her back to increase. She groaned in a mixture of pleasure and pain as Dean's tongue pushed its way into her mouth. Smoothing over her own and licking at the roof of her mouth, it explored.

Jo felt heat flood over her - a mixture of anger and desire and passion. The blood pumping in her head made a whooshing sound in her ears as she kissed back hungrily, wanting more. The scratch of his stubble rubbing on her chin made her want him even more than she thought she could have.

As soon as it started though, it was over. Her lips yearned to be connected to his as he pulled away abruptly and stepped back, dropping his hands. Jo didn't understand what was going on, but, at the same time, she knew exactly.

Dean grabbed his jacket off of the barstool roughly and shrugged into it. "G'night, Jo," he muttered, turning on his heel. She listened to his boots scuff against the ground and watched as the door slammed shut behind him, leaving the room silent again except for the music of the juke box.

Jo struggled desperately for air as she fell back onto a barstool, bracing her arms against her knees.

If she had known that that had been how Dean was going to treat her as an adult, she would have yelled at him a long time ago.


End file.
